Something Special
by Elisa Miller
Summary: Dumbledore has plenty of experience with exceptional witches and wizards. He is surprised when he discovers which student is most exceptional this year. Or Dumbledore forgets that there is more than one way to be exceptional, but is happy to admit he was wrong.


Something Special

Albus Dumbledore was no stranger to special witches and wizards. He had encountered more than his fair share in his life.

His entire family was talented for one thing. His brother, outstanding. His father, insanely powerful. His mother? Never outright showed it, but the ease with which Albus witnessed her performing any of her magical affairs, he had a hunch she may be more powerful than them all.

His sister hadn't had the chance to be anything special, rest her soul. But he knew in his heart, she would've put them all to shame.

Albus himself, of course, was nothing to scoff at. He had always been a natural at all things magical. He had watched other children struggle to learn things that came to him effortlessly. It had always bothered him when he could watch and see what was wrong, what his classmates were missing. He was always one to jump in and help.

At times, he admits, he may have seemed to be a know it all. He truly just wanted to help. He grew to understand, through life experience, that he may have been less than gracious in how those handled situations.

Everything that happened with his sister and his father and then his mother made him a bit resentful of it all. His natural ability had gotten him exactly nowhere. He still had to return home and do all the things everyone else does, be less, even, than what everyone else is.

He met Gellert Grindelwald. He was another outstanding wizard, both in the conventional way and a way all his own. They did their thing. Two wonderful wizards, making plans to make a better world. One that corrects the injustices Albus has faced in his life.

Until it happened. And then they couldn't anymore. Albus couldn't. He wasn't the same person he had been.

He understood. He understood all the wrong, all the misconceptions they were under, all the unfairness and lies. It was like the glass shattered. Suddenly he saw what this new world would be. What it would turn into.

It wasn't what Albus wanted.

He had always loved seeing witches and wizards excel. He had always been one to excel himself, so he knew how elated they were when they got that new spell finally. When they were told their potion passed with flying colors.

Grindelwald's world didn't allow for that. It didn't allow for people to succeed that way. For the peers he had helped, even though he hadn't been too gentle with their feelings he now knew, to have the chance to get there too.

Gellert's world, it only allowed for the exceptional to succeed.

Albus now recognized the error in this way of thinking. He had always known, but now it was all he could see.

They were all exceptional. Every witch who was the best at transfiguration, who puts her whole class to shame. Every wizard who took three attempts to make the perfect sleeping draught because he was distracted from a lack of sleep the night before. Every muggleborn child who got their Hogwarts letter at 11, and even their younger sibling that didn't.

Not a single one of them was unexceptional.

Even his brother, who people often see as exactly that, unexceptional

And just like that, he knew there was more he had to do. He had to be the one to make them see just how much potential they had, each and every one of them. How exceptional they could be. And he had to help them make sure they got there.

Some years down the road he had become a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He liked to think his students benefitted from his efforts in teaching. He liked to think his students enjoyed having him as a teacher.

He made an effort with each and every student that came through his doors, to make sure they felt confident and as if they were one of the brightest students he had ever met. It was hardly a chore. They were each amazing in their own right.

Every year there was that one child that stood out above the rest. Usually a student to whom magic seemed to come especially naturally. They were usually much like him in this way.

He always strove to set them on the right path. He had been dangerously close to making an irrevocable move down a path he would rather not accept existed most days.

He made sure he could use his own experience to stop others like him, others whose horses were maybe too high some days. To ensure they knew it was alright to stay a bit lower to the ground, lest they stop seeing where their hooves fell.

The one student this year was peculiar. Usually Dumbledore could pick out his pivotal pupil, as Professor McGonagall jokingly called them, within the first week of classes. This year was different. No one seemed to stand out to him really. They were all exceptional, but none that truly caught his focus.

Until about halfway to the Christmas holiday. It was during a lesson with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years. There were only about eighteen students in the class, one of the smaller groups, with several out with whatever illness was ransacking the castle.

The lesson was on how to fend off various beasts, generally a popular subject among the younger students. Especially those born from Muggles, having grown up without the knowledge that all sorts of magical creatures they've heard about are far from the myths they were raised to believe.

One such beast was under discussion, what it may do upon catching a human, how to defend against it. Not always the most palatable of discussions but a necessity none the less.

Rarely did Dumbledore have a student disagree with his teachings. A small boy, reddish-brown hair a mess atop his pale, slightly freckled face, spoke up.

"Why wouldn't you just distract it? Or get its attention and make it trust you?"

The innocence in his voice was striking. Dumbledore suddenly realized he had never heard this student speak before.

"There are times that is a viable option of course," Dumbledore began, thinking through his answer carefully. "Other times, though, there may not be a choice. Of course we never want to unnecessarily harm a creature, but in life there may be situations where they don't leave you with another option."

He hated to put that thought into their minds, especially that boy who asked the question, innocent as he seemed. "I do sincerely hope none of you are ever in a place to make such a call."

The boy seemed to have more to still be displeased with the answer but chose to leave it at that. Dumbledore was grateful, he didn't want to see a more displeased look on the young boy's face.

Yes, this boy was something special.

It went on like this for the rest of the semester. Newt, he discovered, Newt Scamander was the boy's name. He had an older brother, Theseus, who was quite talented at defensive enchantments.

The boy was very quiet, studious, though without any real desire to follow the rules it seemed. He was very intelligent, and exceedingly awkward. He seemed to light up whenever the lesson or conversation turned to any kind of magical creatures.

Newt had a wealth of knowledge on magical creatures, rivaling that of any upperclassman. He knew things even some of the teachers only vaguely remembered hearing, obviously stemming from his own research.

It was clear he was entranced by creatures, not just for their uses, but for their well-being above all else.

One day Dumbledore came across Newt out on the grounds. He appeared to be speaking rather intimately to a tree.

Not wanting to startle the boy, Dumbledore stopped a safe distance away and watched. What was happening soon became apparent.

The boy stuck out his hand, slowly, no sudden movements and continued speaking softly to the tree. His words were too quiet to be heard from a distance, but his actions seemed to be encouraging.

Just as Dumbledore was about to walk away, write it off as one of the boy's many peculiarities, a small movement caught his eye.

It could have been the wind, but something about it made him stay. A while later, long past when Dumbledore's own patience would have worn thin, a tiny twig seemed to inch out of a hole in the bark.

A Bowtruckle. And then another.

A couple of very tiny sticks with eyes are inspecting the offered hand very cautiously. They must decide the boy is safe as they crawl into the open palm.

Dumbledore starts walking forward carefully, making enough noise to announce his presence but not enough to seem threatening.

Newt never looks away from the treasure in his palm. He stays facing the tree, keeping the bowtruckles close to their home to ensure they feel safe. He is a new person after all, they mustn't feel separated from their home.

"What have you found there, Mr. Scamander?" Dumbledore kept his tone light so as not to startle the peaceful moment.

"Not what. Who. There is a Bowtruckle family living in this tree. They only live in wand wood trees so I've never seen one in person before." Rarely had anyone sounded as happy as Newt.

"I've never tried to get one to come out. How did you manage it?" Dumbledore knew plenty about Bowtruckles, but he was eager to learn more about his boy.

"Well, they aren't very trusting. They have to feel safe to leave their home, which means they have to recognize you." Newt recited the facts as though they were second nature. "There is very little information on them as a whole because they so rarely leave their trees. I wanted to learn more about them, so I've been coming here for the last couple of months and talking to them."

Dumbledore was surprised by that. "Talking to them?"

"Yes," Newt responded. "They're wonderful listeners. I come here after classes are finished, before supper. I tell them about my day, my classes. Sometimes I read to them from our books."

Dumbledore wasn't sure what to do with that. It made sense from the boy somehow.

"At first, they acted like they weren't there. They must've been frightened. Then I read them the story the knight and his dragon from our History of Magic class, and they forgot to pretend they weren't listening." Newt smiled then, proud of himself for his efforts. They had clearly paid off.

"They have never let me hold them before. They have been coming out to talk for a couple of weeks now. Well, to listen. But they're a very responsive audience." Newt looked up at Dumbledore for the first time in their exchange. His eyes were shining.

"I think they're just shy, Professor. I think they don't mind humans at all, just no one ever takes the time to get to know them, to gain their trust." Something in his expression made Dumbledore positive they weren't just talking about the Bowtruckles.

He looked down at the tiny creatures in Newt's hand, and sure enough, they were leaning into Newt's chest where he had his hand cradled, looking up at Dumbledore warily.

"I'm sure you're right Mr. Scamander. People must learn to be more patient. Not all creatures are kind, and some are more cautious of who they place their trust in." Dumbledore was amazed at how wise this young boy was. "It would do us all well to remember that. And perhaps be a bit more like that ourselves."

Newt had long since returned his gaze to the Bowtruckles tucked safely into his chest. His gaze was one of adoration, something surely reflected in Dumbledore's own gaze upon the scene.

"I think it best if I leave you to your observations now," Dumbledore said fondly. "We have yet to become acquainted and I would hate to cause them undue stress. Perhaps in time, I may earn their trust as you have, hmm?"

"Yes, of course Professor." Newt looked pleased that someone he seemed to hold in such high respect was treating his knowledge as the authority on the matter. "They really are a gentle species. They are just...misunderstood I think."

Misunderstood indeed, Dumbledore thought. "Then we must fix that at once. I believe you to be the right man for that job." Newt looked up again at the thought, hopeful at the opportunity and responsibility he had been given. "If anyone can properly understand them, I am sure it will be you."

Newt felt his face flush at the confidence in his teacher's voice. No one had ever had such unwavering faith in his abilities before.

Dumbledore turned to head back to the castle. He had only made it a few steps away when he heard the boy, barely loud enough to hear even from this small a distance, "Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore turned to look back at his surprising young pupil. "I feel as though very soon, it will be I thanking you, Mr. Scamander." He made sure to make eye contact as he said this. "Bowtruckles is just the beginning for you, I'm sure of it."

Newt looked away, uncertain what to do with the praise. "I look forward to being learning from your observations, Newt."

And with that Dumbledore was off, back to the castle, his initial destination long forgotten.

He had dealt with a great many exceptional students. Though so far, none as surprising as this boy, with no friends to speak of, but the trust of a creature thought, until now, to be notoriously coldshouldered to humans.

Yes, this boy was going far. He was destined for great things. This boy was truly something special.


End file.
